That Sweet Little Insomnia
by Lady Geek Chic
Summary: A series of drabbles in various genres. Hopefully funny, hopefully interesting.


That Sweet Little Insomnia

Story 1: When Galaxies Collide

Or a hundred and one reasons Helga should not enter politics.

A laser blast ripped a hole in the wall Helga Pataki had been stood in front of a mere ten seconds earlier, she swore as she hit the floor but was up and running moments later. Hiding behind a ledge she fought to control her breathing and brought her blaster up ready to fire a few shots at her rapidly gaining enemies. Leaping up from a crouch she ran across to a boulder firing two shots as she did, the thud of a body hitting the floor was music to her ears. Behind the boulder she paused to take stock of the situation. Two at nine o-clock, a body at seven and one at three, she squeezed off another shot and smirked, make that none at three.

"Helga, you read me?"

"Loud and clear Gerald." Her pin buzzed and she heard a muffled crash and a string of expletives. "You kiss your mama with that mouth tall hair boy?" She smirked, the smirk fell as in return there was only silence. Five seconds. Ten seconds. Fifteen seconds. "Gerald, answer me _dammit_!" Finally, her pin crackled.

"I hear ya and _don't_ call me tall hair boy."

"Thought I'd lost ya for a moment, don't do that to me Pheebs would kill me." Gerald's bass chuckle made her grin despite the chaos going on around her.

"What's your status?"

"I got two bozos to deal with and then I'm clear for pick up. Ya hear me Pheebs?"

"Hearing! I'm centring in on your location, t-minus two minutes, be ready." Glancing around the boulder Helga fired three times in quick succession and breathed a sigh of relief when there was two thuds and a distinct lack of return fire.

"I think I got them. Get me out of here Pheebs."

Turning to lean against the boulder Helga sat with her knees bent, one arm rested casually on her legs, her blaster primed and ready for action, digging around in her pocket with her left hand she pulled a pack of cigarettes and a lighter out and thumbing the packet open tipped one out. Lighting the cigarette, she took a drag letting her eyes fall shut as the nicotine did its job. She almost didn't hear the footsteps and when she did it was too late, she opened her eyes to a blaster mere inches from her nose. "Well, shit."

The blast that should have killed her instead showered her with the alien's purple-blue blood and she shuddered wiping it from her eyes.

"One day those things are going to kill you." Arnold Shortman said dryly. Holding out his hand he pulled her to her feet and casually peeled a lump of brain matter off her shoulder.

"This one almost did." Helga smirked flicking the cigarette to the floor where it landed in a pool of blood setting it on fire. "Did you know Martian blood was flammable?"

"Nope. Care to run with me?" Grabbing his outstretched hand Helga took off at a sprint clearing the area as the body exploded leaving a crater behind.

"_What was that_?" Gerald skidded to a halt behind the two panting blondes.

"Martian blood is flammable _and _explosive." Arnold said peering at the crater with wide eyes.

"Were we planning on sticking any bodies in the incinerator?" Gerald asked and Helga shrugged.

"God, I hope not. Best let Command know."

"Pheebs is just around the corner." Gerald sighed leading Arnold and Helga to the waiting shuttle.

Twenty minutes later a damn sight cleaner and vowing to never smoke again Helga flopped down onto a seat in the cockpit.

"Did this mission actually achieve anything _other_ than my being covered with alien shit?"

Arnold looked up from his notes and grinned. "We have the location of the hive mind, I've zapped the coordinates to Command and let them know not to incinerate any Martians."

"I'm _so_ ready for this damn war to be over." Helga sighed relaxing into her seat and closing her eyes.

"Well maybe _next_ time we go on a diplomacy mission we'll leave you at home, so you don't start another intergalactic war." Gerald said rolling his eyes.

"Not _my_ fault Bucko is a high insult in Martian."

"Who decided that the blonde with the mouth was the best person to send on a diplomatic mission anyway?" Gerald retorted and Phoebe chuckled nervously.

"I thought it would be good for her to get out and meet new people." The Asian pilot shrugged her shoulders helplessly.

"Join the diplomatic unit, make new friends, start new wars." Helga smirked before leaning across to Phoebe. "Are we nearly there yet?"

End

A/N: Obviously I don't own Hey Arnold or any of its associated characters. Nor do I own Mars or a patent for laser blasters (alas).

This was just an attempt at writing science fiction and like everything I write ended up more character than plot driven, but it's a drabble so what can I expect? I'm tempted to write more drabbles in a variety of genres, if you check out my other work, you'll see I'm a Jane Austen dork and it is tempting to stuff Helga in Regency England. If you're wondering about the title That Sweet Little Insomnia, I used a title generator; and this was the least terrible.

Thanks to this fantastic community for keeping Hey Arnold alive and kicking.


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